


Burns and Frostbites

by Etoiles_Filantes



Series: of ice and fire [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Snippets, Thanksgiving, all that extra shit, tags will be added as more chapters are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etoiles_Filantes/pseuds/Etoiles_Filantes
Summary: A collection of cut scenes, alternate endings, and alternate POV's from Ace of Spades. Will probably be confusing read on its own.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Original Male Character(s)
Series: of ice and fire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710172
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Alternate ending

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ending I wrote to Ace of Spades, from December 2018, when I thought interactions between Kent and Jack would happen in Year 4. They didn't, but I liked this ending, so here it is.

“Hey, Ken – Kent.”

He could end the call. One click, one more to turn off the phone entirely.

Kent glanced to his right where Seonghyun had not as much as stirred. If he continued to talk, he'd wake him up.

“Kent … merde, it’s pretty late in Vegas, isn’t it?”

The door closed with a soft sound behind Kent. On the couch, a pair of shining eyes opened and stared. He walked over and sat down next to her. “Yeah, Zi - Jack, yeah, it is. Whaddaya want?”

On the other end, Jack hesitated. “I’m sorry, this can wait until tomorrow - “

“Spit it out.” Kent closed his eyes, swallowed, relaxed the hand on Purrs’ back. “You’ve already woken me up, just say what you need to say before I fall asleep again.”

“J’suis désolé.”

Outside, the lights were on, like they always were. Nothing ever changed in Las Vegas. Nothing whatso-fucking-ever. Kent didn’t speak.

“I’m marrying Bittle.”

And there it was.

“I just wanted to let you know. Before it becomes public.”

It was odd; a year before they didn’t even speak to each other, and Kent would've killed to change it.

Ten years earlier, Kent had wanted to be the name in that sentence.

“If … if you want to come, I don’t mind. Bittle, either.”

A laugh lodged itself in Kent’s throat, threatened to choke him. He let the phone fall onto the couch, watched it wobble before settling, almost felt disappointed that it didn’t fall and crack itself on the floor.

“Kent?” Jack’s now tinny voice ran out, far away and way too fucking close. Always too fucking close.

Kent took a deep breath, then another, before picking up the phone again. “Sorry, Purrs knocked the phone outta my hand. Took a little fight to get it back.”

“How is she?”

“She’s doing alright. Still down to earth despite her Insta-fame, you know.”

“Insta-what?”

Kent smiled, despite it all. “Forget it.”

“Right.” Jack hesitated. “It’s next year, the wedding. July, I think. In Canada. Euh, after your birthday. I’ll send you an invitation, if you want it. Or I won’t, if you don’t.” He trailed off.

Kent had once seen a newly hatched bird, just a baby, fall off the edge of its nest. It couldn’t have had any eyes, anything that could have told it of the imminent danger it was in, only a sense of curiosity and adventure that made it stand and walk and not stop. He'd been thirteen years old, had braces on his teeth and a sense of anxiety in the pit of his stomach he hadn’t yet been able to name, and the bird had landed on the pavement with a sound he never quite forgot. Helpless and new, it had been. Helpless and impossible to save, even if he'd tried.

He wasn’t thirteen anymore. The feeling in the pit of his stomach had developed and been named. They weren’t helpless, and they certainly weren’t new.

Kent thought of Seonghyun. Always did, these days. That was new, that was something in the pit of his stomach that did not have a name. He knew what name it would be given, if it didn’t fall out of the nest it had built in his chest and lodged in his throat before it grew large enough to be.

“You can always send an invitation,” Kent said, felt the words on his tongue and in a lump in his throat. “I can see if I have the time.”

“I will,” Jack said, voice thick with something that wasn’t relief. Or maybe it was, and the years between when Kent could tell his thought without him having to say them and now had changed his voice. His body. His mind. His heart. And Kent’s, too.

“Do I get a plus one?”

And some things, time hadn’t changed. In his mind, he could see Jack’s face, the surprise and understanding that always took longer to come than for others. When they'd been young, it had been funny. When they'd grown up, it had been endearing. Even now, despite everything, it moved Kent’s lips into something resembling a smile.

“Euh, it’s included in the, in the RSVP. If you need it.”

“Would you mind if I brought someone?”

Jack was quiet, for minutes, for hours, for a fraction of a breath. “No, of course not. There’ll be Falconers, too. You might need someone in your corner.”

And Kent laughed, despite it all, without a sound. “I won’t start a fight at your wedding if they won’t. Might drink all your cocktails, though.”

“I’ll make sure there’s plenty,” Jack said, voice warm like the honey his Ma used to put in chamomile tea when he was younger so it would drown out the bitterness and he would actually drink it. He preferred brandy now.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

And he meant it. For once in his life, even if it still stopped his breath short and hurt his eyes, he meant it.

“I’m happy, too.”

And he was, he was, he _was_ , and Kent wanted to cry, and he wanted Seonghyun to hold him until he didn’t anymore and until the sun rose and until he, too, could speak words with such feeling. It had been so long.

“I’m going to go to bed again. It’s fucking late, Jack.”

“I know.” He smiled, soft and small on the other end. “Goodnight, Kent.”

And Kent smiled, too. “Bonne nuit, Jack.”


	2. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This scene was one cut from chapter 11 of Ace of Spades. It takes place either just before or just after the first Falcs game of the season.

The Aces’ rink was like a lot of things in Las Vegas. Outwardly chaotic, in truth controlled to the max. No puck in the wrong place. No one doing anything they weren’t supposed to, except when they were.

”You don’t have to do this, y’know that, right?” Kent asked.

Swoops shrugged, picked up another puck from the ice. ”Mahmoud’s ill. I don’t mind.”

”You’re so fucking Canadian.”

”And you’re a horrible New Yorker.”

Kent grinned, kicked a puck closer to Swoops’ hand. They were paid millions to play hockey, not clean up after it. Still, if it made him happy.

”What’re your plans this year?” Swoops asked suddenly. ”For Thanksgiving?”

”Same as always,” Kent shrugged. ”Take-out and a cuddle with Purrs. I was thinking of buying one of those cute cat costumes this year and dress her up a bit. Her followers would fucking love it. And Elise has promised to visit.”

Just the name, and Swoops’ attention was off the pucks. “Yeah, she mentioned that. Think she’s up for that take-out and cat-cuddling?”

Kent shrugged. “I’ve got a bottle of Smirnoff.”

Swoops snorted. “So do I. What I also have is Bubbles, Scraps, and Scraps’ tax lady that he’s trying to impress.”

“Shit, Sue?”

“Sue’s the name, yeah. Apparently, she makes a mean pumpkin pie.”

“Cool, and?”

”And I’m just saying, you’re welcome to join.” He shrugged, oh-so-casually. “I’ll be lobbying Elise, anyway.”

A second passed. Then, Kent let out a laugh that echoed through the room.

”What the fuck’s so funny?”

”Nothin’,” Kent replied before doubling over in laughter.

”Okay, what the fuck’s your fucking problem?”

”Nothing!” Kent insisted through bouts of laughter. There were tears beginning to prickle in his eyes. ”You just sounded so fucking nervous!”

Swoops’ arms were crossed in front of his chest. ”I’m not asking you to prom, Parson. You can just say no if you don’t wanna come.”

With a last snort, Kent wiped a stray tear from his eye. ”Fuck no, I’m coming. And so’s Purrs.”

”Can we eat her?”

With a kick to the chin, Swoops fell on his face on the ice. With another kick, Kent fell, too, and the last thing he saw before once more doubling over in laughter was the look on Kenan’s face he could only describe as _done_.

*

“I still don’t understand why you had to bring the fucking pussy.”

“You’re bringing the pussy,” Kent said. “I’m bringing the fucking queen.”

Elise snorted. “That’s the gayest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me.”

A beat, then laughter. His own, he found, and that was nice.

That was nice.

What wasn’t nice was the smell.

“Jesus fucking Christ, they doing a bonfire in there or something?” Elise muttered, and Kent was about to formulate an answer, a chirp, when she fished out a key from her pocket and stuck it in the lock, and that was a round of questions he was making her answer in a couple of bottles.

The door opened, and the smell worsened beyond belief, joined by smoke and yelling and something that was probably a smoke detector beneath it all. Through it, Swoops’ dog patted up, entirely ignorant of the chaos behind her, eyes darting to Purrs hissing in her carrier. Kent held it behind him.

“Hey, Tonya,” Elise said, voice high-pitched and fucking adorable, squatting down to pet the lab. “Hiding from the chaos, huh? Good call.”

Tonya sniffed wetly in answer, promptly shoving her nose into Elise’s crotch, earning herself an even higher-pitched shriek and a gentle slap to the side.

“Not that interesting, buddy.”

“Better than fucking smoke,” Kent muttered, and she snorted.

”Elise? Parse? That you?”

”No, it’s the fucking fire inspector!”

”Haha,” Swoops said, stepping out from the corner leading to the kitchen. On his face was something that might be soot, as well as on the dish cloth he was still trying to wipe his hands with. ”You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

”I’m fucking hilarious. But seriously, what’re ya doing out there? Oven too small, so y’tried flame throwers on the poor bird instead? Or was it alive when y’tried shoving it in?”

”Just put your cat down and call for some take-out, would you? Scraps is freaking out in there.”

Kent raised his eyebrows. ”Sure. Just out of curiosity, how badly didja fuck up?”

”Jesus mother _fucking_ Christ!” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bubbles’ rang out.

Elise grinned. ”Always thought Mary Magdalene and Mary had little too similar names. Did Oedipus live before or after Jesus, y’think?”

”Please just call the fucking take-out. Just one of you.”

”Don’t fucking drop it!” Scrappy’s voice this time. ”It’ll fucking pulverise and I am _not_ cleaning that shit up!”

”Scraps’ girl’s still bringing pie,” Swoops said.

”Good to know,” Kent said, phone already to his ear.

“Not my girl!” Scraps yelled.

“Better not!” Kent yelled back, waiting for the call to go through. “I fucking introduced you to her!”

“I got you Bazrafkhan!”

“I’m not gonna fuck my fucking dentist – yes, hello, I’d like to place an order for - “

When Sue arrived, pie in hand, a dark green dress with a cut that proved good for Scraps’ hopes for the night, the take-out had been neatly arranged in the containers they’d arrived in, plus a bit on the tablecloth. She took one look at it all, put the pie down, allowed Scraps to pull out her chair in the dining room, and Kent knew she’d be sticking around.

Having his tax lady in the WAG section was going to be fucking weird, but he’d dealt with worse. Might even be fun.

There were more unorthodox meals to eat on Thanksgiving than Thai food, they ended up deciding. Especially when joined by enough white wine and Smirnoff to make a lacrosse team keel over.

“We’re so fucking single,” Bubbles muttered by the end, and Kent tried not to nod. Tried being the key-word.

“Fuck, we forgot the fish!”

Swoops, and Elise frowned from where she was half-lying on his arm. “Fish?”

“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen - “

“Fish. At Thanksgiving.”

Swoops nodded.

Kent snorted. “You don’t eat fucking fish at Thanksgiving.”

“Maybe not in the US.”

“Bro, I’ve been to Thanksgiving in Canada. There’s no fish there, either.” Swoops opened his mouth to retaliate, but either someone kicked him under the table, or Kent spoke too fast for him to deal with. “Bring it out, I’ve got an idea. Fucking moose,” he added at Swoops’ back, and Elise cracked up, Sue giggling into her hand not covered by Scraps’. The gentleman. Who also offered to walk her home, conveniently the same route as leading to his place. The _gentleman_.

“We are so _fucking_ single,” Bubbles muttered on their way out, and Kent offered him his guest room. Again.

As if he would’ve had to go home alone if he’d turned him down.

[Image: Kit Purrson on top of a cupboard, biting the head off an entirely horrified looking salmon.]

_Domesticated my butt. Pawnk will never die!_


	3. Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first scenes cut from chapter 11, and so it doesn't really fit the story that much more. The last half of the dialogue, however, was one of the first I wrote for this story, and I'm a little sad I couldn't get it to fit within Ace of Spades.

The view from his windows was truly beautiful. Kent knew that, had known that for years, but seeing it through Seonghyun’s eyes and a haze of alcohol it was once more something entirely new. His arm was around Seonghyun’s shoulders, the other pointing out whatever spot he could think of, whatever might elicit a smile or a laugh or anything at all. Seonghyun’s arm was around his waist, a light, calming presence, and the look on his face was soft, not quite smiling - content. Kent could work with content. Kent fucking loved content.

At some point, they migrated to the kitchen they’d left something like an hour or two before, putting together something that wasn’t sandwiches and tasted like avocado. Kent couldn’t remember buying avocados, but there was something green on Seonghyun’s upper lip, so perhaps he'd bought avocados after all. It tasted like it when Kent leaned in and licked it off, earning him a snort and a quick kiss that he returned with fervour. Seonghyun was the first to pull back, made another snorting sound into the back of his hand. It took Kent a moment to realise he was laughing, and then he was, too, laughing until his sides hurt and Seonghyun was leaning against him, both shaking with it.

At some point, they were in the bathroom, gesturing and pointing at the mirror, laughing at something that wasn’t funny but somehow still was.

And they were in the shower, Seonghyun pushed against the wall and Kent pressing himself as close to him as he could get, kissing like breathing, like they were drowning men. The water was turned on, drenched them both to the bone, but it didn’t matter, didn’t fucking matter in the fucking least, because Seonghyun was warm against him, warm and pliant and with long, nimble fingers playing with his hair and Kent could die like this, drown in the fucking shower as long Seonghyun didn’t stop touching him.

And they were on Kent’s bed, dry and fully clothed above the somehow rumpled covers. The pillow on Kent’s side had fallen onto the floor, but he didn’t need it because Seonghyun was looking at him with colour in his cheeks and something that was almost a smile.

“You’re fucking beautiful, y’know that?”

Seonghyun raised an eyebrow.

“’m not kidding, you’re, shit, you’re prob’ly the most beautiful man I’ve ever fucking seen. Met,” he added.

The smile on Seonghyun’s lips hadn’t moved. “Beautiful?”

Kent shrugged. “Handsome. Hot. Whatever y’wanna call it.”

There was a flicker of a smile, almost too quick for Kent to see, before a hand settled on his face. Seonghyun had moved to his side, rested his weight on the arm not with a hand on Kent’s cheek. It was all the warning Kent got before lips settled on his again, slightly chapped and with a tint of alcohol that went straight to Kent’s gut.

Not that he needed any warning. And neither did Seonghyun, it seemed, as Kent rolled over to settle between his legs. Strong arms came to rest around his neck, pulled him ever closer.

Whoever had taught that man to kiss needed a fucking fruit basket, Kent decided. A big one with loads of bananas. And peaches. And all kinds of other shit a rookie would laugh stupidly at.

Kent hardly noticed when their positions changed, when he was on his back with his legs spread and Seonghyun had moved between them. The kissing hadn’t stopped. Nothing else really mattered.

And then it did. One moment to the other, Seonghyun was on his back next to Kent, lips swollen, breaths tearing up the fragile silence like knives on spider web.

“What’s wrong?” Kent asked, once his voice returned.

“I’m drunk.”

“So am I.”

“I don’t fuck men with beards.”

“Who said we were gonna fuck?”

Seonghyun glanced over, then down at Kent’s pants. Kent didn’t follow his gaze. Didn’t need to. He knew the awkward angle his legs were in. Seonghyun’s were in the same.

“Wait, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’tcha fuck men with beards?”

A shrug. “Idiot I knew when I was younger. If a man has a beard, I think of him.”

Kent nodded. “Do I remind ya of him?”

“No. You’re very different.”

“But the beard.”

“Yes.”

“It’ll be gone in, like, two weeks.”

“I know.”

“That why you still come over?”

“Part of it.”

Part of it. Nice. “You think you’re ever gonna get over the beard thing?”

“Are you planning on keeping yours?”

“Fuck no.”

Seonghyun exhaled, folded his hands over his chest. “One day, probably. When I no longer miss him.”

“You miss him?”

“I loved him. It’s natural, I think, missing someone you’ve loved.”

Something tightened in the pit of Kent’s stomach. “Even if it was bad?”

“It was still love.”

And it always would be.

“Don’t you ever miss someone you loved?”

Kent allowed himself a glance over. Seonghyun looked back with the same expression he always wore. “I do. Feel like I shouldn’t, though.”

He could've kicked himself. Too vulnerable.

“You loved him.”

“I did.”

“For a long time.”

“Too long.”

“It always is.”

Kent sighed. “I used to fuck guys that reminded me of him.”

“So did I.”

“You’re not one of them, if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t. And you aren’t, either. For me.”

“Didn’t think I was. Didn’t have a beard when we met.”

A snicker. Kent cracked a grin.

For a long moment, they looked at each other. Light was fading, Kent noticed faintly. When they'd laid down, there'd been sunshine on Seonghyun’s chest. Now, it was on his forehead.

“He tried to kill himself.” A breach, too fast. Too much alcohol.

Seonghyun nodded.

“I found him.”

Didn’t even glance at the water spilled. “When?”

“2009. We were eighteen. We were supposed to be drafted the night after.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“No.”

“And you went to Vegas.”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t?”

“Hadn’t what?”

“Hadn’t gone to Vegas?”

A smile crept its way onto Kent’s face, threatened to slip out from between his lips. He turned to lie on his back. “No. No, I fucking love Vegas. All things considered … I love it here. I do.”

Seonghyun nodded. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t found him?”

The smile dried up. Cracked. Flaked. Blew away in the non-existent desert wind. “The fuck do ya mean by that?”

“What I said. Do you ever regret that you found him?”

He looked beautiful like that, with the sun now gone entirely from his face. All dark hair and serious eyes and broken feet and bruises up and down his body. Kent knew he'd find them if he pushed the clothes away, considered doing it. Derailing the conversation. Distracting them both.

Jack had been beautiful, too, so fucking beautiful it had blown his mind to pieces that never quite managed to settle back into place, however much Kent had prayed they would. And it had been his own fucking fault.

He swallowed. “Someone else would've."

For a long moment, he felt Seonghyun’s eyes on him, tearing him apart or judging him or something else he didn’t dare name, not even in the furthest corners of his mind where Jack still haunted. When their eyes met, and Seonghyun’s briefly closed, Kent knew he understood. Some things couldn’t be spoken, couldn’t be brought into light without catching fire and burning everything in its vicinity. It wasn’t worth it.

Even if it was the truth.


End file.
